


Lucky

by Chellodello



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Jean grows up to be commander, M/M, what a time to be alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chellodello/pseuds/Chellodello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some men have all the luck— Jean is not one of those men.<br/>Or;<br/>Jean lives a long, healthy life. Alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> If you thought I couldn't write an angst fic based off of Britney Spears lyrics then you were fucking W R O N G.

 

 

  _And the world is spinning and she keeps on winning, but tell me what happens when it stops?_

* * *

 

The thing about the scouting legion is that with a 90% death rate you get used to the fact that death is going to come for you sooner rather than later. Jean Kirschtein is many things but a naive optimist isn’t one of them, not anymore. At the tender age of 15 he has seen death up close and personal, has watched it take away his best friend and countless others.

He had forgone joining the military police to atone for that naivety. The scouting legion would do more for the world than anyone else and Marco had always said that he was good at being good; even if he didn’t want to be.

There is a selfish part of him, _because selfish is one of the things that he is_ , that thinks that joining the scouting legion will bring him closer to his own death and he relishes it. It’s not a suicide wish; he is far too proud for that. He would never try to get himself killed.

But as it was, Marco’s death had left a hole in him, a thought that makes him cringe from the bad wording. Poetic is another thing that he is not. It was a hole that couldn’t be filled, even if he became closer with the other members of the 104th, even when he smiled and laughed, it was always there, eating at him. Something was missing. That something had freckles and was obnoxiously nice and used to hold his hand under the dinner table when no one was looking.

There was a large part of Jean that wanted to get back to his almost-friend-almost-something-more as quick as possible. Dying wouldn’t be the worst thing, especially if he went down with a fight. A soldier's death. There is a certain solace that comes with accepting that you were probably going to die young; a detachedness from one’s fears that allowed you to do your absolute best.

If he lived; then he had another day to help free humanity from its shackles. If he died; then Marco was waiting for him.

Jean almost looks forward to it.

* * *

 

At 20; they make him a squad leader.

It’s not something he ever imagined for himself growing up. In fact the only person who had ever considered him a good leader had been Marco and that had obviously turned out great for him. He doesn’t understand why Corporal Levi picked him and not Mikasa or someone with a more impressive kill record, not that his is anything to scoff at. He’s actually pretty sure Corporal Levi hates him, but then again Levi hated everyone that wasn't Jaeger now a days.

He accepts the position because, really, what else can he do? Say no to humanity's strongest?

Jean's unit boasts the highest survival rate of any in the legion. 70% is nothing to scoff at in comparison to 90%. 

When his subordinates call him captain and look to him for guidance Jean feels just as much shame as he does pride. It almost feels like he's living in some kind of backwards bizarro world where he, ne'er-do-well, emotionally aggressive, horse-faced, Jean is a respected role model and captain while reliable, goodie-two-shoes, perfectly freckled Marco is nothing but a distant memory and a bone shard hidden under his pillow.

* * *

 

At 24; he is still alive and but many men and women aren’t.

It’s to be expected, but it never gets easier. The soldiers seem to be dying younger and younger and it’s difficult to watch because he really isn’t that much older than them. Not really. Most of his unit won’t live to make it out of puberty, let alone the ripe old twenties.

With pain, comes a small miracle though. The same week that they cremate more than half of the newly graduated 115th division, Sasha and Connie give birth to a son.

Not many soldiers live long enough to have children and most chose not to have a family even if they do, but both parents in question aren’t exactly standard issue soldiers so he’s not really all that surprised. It’s nice to see something born instead of something die for a change. The baby is fat and whiny, but it pukes on Jaeger so he’s okay in Jean’s book.

Connie wants to name the boy Marco, after the first of them to fall and he asks _him_ if it’s okay. As if he’s in charge of all things even remotely related to Marco Bodt. He sputters and heems and hauls before telling them to do whatever, but all parties invovled are very aware that he is touched by the gesture. Jean definitely doesn’t cry, but if he did it would be completely understandable.

Baby Marco Springer doesn’t look a thing like his namesake, instead looking more like a miniature Sasha than anything else, but he does has a patch of freckles splayed over his heart and it’s as close at they’re going to get he supposes.

No one questions it when Jean finds himself hanging around the nursery haphazardly added on to their home on nights when he’s most troubled by the past. And no one dare question why the boy grows up calling him uncle.

* * *

 

At 30 Jean takes over Commander Erwin's position when the blond man is killed at the battle of Sina Wall. It is a vicious conflict started by unusually intelligent titans that had appeared in the walls and fractured the once sheltered central ring severely. People who had lived without the threat of titans their entire lives suddenly knew the fear that gripped the outer walls for decades.

Jean is aware that it sounds callous but that fear is what reenergizes the masses to seek a final end to the tyranny of the titans. The scouting legion is flooded with new recruits and trainees, and even the military police joins in active duty for the first time since their creation.  The approval rating of the military hasn’t been so high for as long as anyone can remember.

Commander Kirschtein. The title sounds strange and too heavy for him to bear but people are looking to him for answers and he can’t exactly turn them away. Jean's plans result in victories more often than not but the losses are brutal when they do happen.

They lose Armin in the aftermath of the battle of Sina Wall as well. Ultimately it wasn't titans that got him, ratehr infection from his wounds that he refuse to get treated until the battle was over. Jean had considered the blond man a friend and one of the few people whose advice he would actively seek out. His death hits them all hard; they haven't had such a close loss since the betrayal of Annie.

No one blames him for Armin's death, not even Eren and Mikasa the people who had every right to, but he blames himself. It was his plan after all.

As soon as the battle phase of the crisis is dealt with and the stationary corps take up the reconstruction Jean locks himself into his quarters and no one but the young Springer boy sees him for a week and even then only when he needs to eat. He has no heart to watch another friend burn on a funeral pyre.

Jean dreams of Marco that week. He teases him and calls him Commander with a warm smile that hasn’t lost its ability to make him blush in 15 years. It almost makes him feel better.

Almost.

* * *

 

At 32 there are only a few of the original 104th left.

They’re currently dealing with a handful of high intelligence titans now, which is good because there is only so much you could do with limited numbers, but bad because well, _intelligence_. Gas is getting harder to come by and so missions have to be made with caution and planning, neither of which happen to be _humanity’s hope’s_ fortes.

As the man in charge of the lives of hundreds of men and women: it’s a nightmare to deal with. As someone who grudging considers himself Jaeger’s kinda-sorta-friend: he gets it.

Jean gets the need to finish this up, the drive to end it all. He wants to be just as reckless because, hey, if he dies then so what? That just means a well-deserved ticket to his dead 15 year old boyfriend — _and wow that sounds really fucked up when you put it like that_ — but his position won’t allow it. So if he gives Eren as much leeway as he can during missions, who’s to know?

Well, everyone.

Lance Corporal Levi, still alive, still annoying, and still as deadly as ever in his tender old age, threatens to remove his rank if he doesn’t stop giving the brat his way. Jean wants to tell him he can't do that because technically speaking, he's Levi's boss but he likes his arms and legs attached to his body thank you very much. And he realizes that it’s just the short man's constipated way of being concerned for Eren, who is his _whatever-he-is_. The relationship between those two is complicated at best and Jean doesn’t want to touch that particular problem with a ten foot pole.

Somehow he continually manages to keep Eren alive to fight another day, even if he can't do the same for the rest of his friends.

In early June of that year a routine scout through the outer boundaries of Wall Maria goes horribly wrong. It starts with a pack of deviant-class titans where there were few trees and anchors and ends with Sasha and Connie killed by the same 17 meter class titan. When they follow their horses back to the scene of their death, their gas canisters are empty but they are together. The loss punches them all in the gut; and the trip back to the HQ with their remains is as silent as a tomb.

No one has any question as to what should happen to their 8 year old son.

Mikasa brings the boy to his quarters hours later and wordlessly drags in a small cot with knowing eyes. It has been years since Jean has harbored any real romantic feelings for the asian soldier, but in her quiet actions he can remember why he once did. The woman has known death intimately and is not one to belittle the loss of family. She gets it.

He takes baby Marco Springer, he’ll always be baby Marco to him, in and raises him as if he is his own.

To calm the sobbing boy down he tells him stories of his parents and the man he was named after late into the night. Jean tells him all that he remembers, especially the stories that aren’t flattering because those are the best. Stories that end with Connie being yelled at by nearly every instructor in the academy, or Sasha’s infamous potato debacle that she herself was always annoyed by, or that time Marco got caught in his own 3Dgear and hung from a tree for 2 hours until he found him.

_He doesn’t tell him that after he had cut him down they had made out like the horny 15 year olds they were until they were nearly caught by Mina Carolina and had to hide in said tree to avoid her. There are somethings he doesn’t need to know about his namesake._

Jean talks and talks until his throat is dry and sore, because when he’s dead no one else will know these stories if he doesn’t tell them. And when baby Marco cries himself to sleep, with vows of killing the titans that took his parents from him on his lips, he has a kind of backwards understanding for why Eren turned out the way he did. That night,  Jean makes a vow of his own.

There are only 4 years until baby Marco is old enough to enlist; 7 years until he will graduate and face the terrors he is having nightmares about first hand. Jean thinks that that’s enough time to end this farce of a fight once and for all. It has to be.

When he returns to duty, Commander Kirschtein throws himself into the fight with a reckless abandon that would make his Marco frown in disapproval; he never liked it when he acted rashly, but Marco wasn't here to stop him and for the first time that might be for the best.

He’s on a deadline.

* * *

 

At 38 the last of the titans are defeated. Just in the nick of time too, Marco Springer is a year away from graduating.

The losses are heavy, entire towns destroyed completely; sections of the wall could never be rebuilt. Then again there’s no need for the walls now, so maybe that’s a good thing.

It feels like a wall inside him has crashed in as well. He feels nothing but envy when they find Mikasa and Hanji among the many to have fallen in this final showdown.  At least they are with Armin and the others and he knows that Mikasa would be satisfied with her death as long as Eren was safe.

Which he is, despite Jaegers best efforts to the contrary. Still it’s worth the eye he loses fighting to cut him out of his titan form for good. If Jean was a poetic man, which he still is not, he’d find the irony in it being the same eye Marco had lost.

Historia retires outside the old inner walls, with no fanfare. She’s just as tired as he is, has known loss like he has, and she has earned her peace as much as anyone. Jean knows that the memory of Ymir hangs over her like a dark cloud and he doesn’t dare think he understands what was between them. 

Being in love with a titan shifter is apparently nothing but a recipe for heartache in the long run.

Eren and Corporal Levi, who still doesn’t look anywhere near his 57 years of age, _some guys have all the luck,_  plan a two man scouting mission to the sea.

Jean isn’t stupid, he knows they aren’t coming back. Eren is the only ‘ _titan’_ left, a thought that neither he nor Historia bring up but weighs heavily on all their minds. A self-imposed exile, for a self-described monster. No one thinks Eren a monster, not in the least, but Jean is aware that he needs this to be able to finish his own vow. It had been Armin's wish and now it was Eren's final tribute to his best friend.

No one even questions why the corporal is going. Jean is pretty sure that Levi would be completely lost without his permanent shadow to boss around. 

They set off at the end of spring. Historia cries, despite assuring them that she wouldn’t do so.  Jean is reminded of a dog leaving to go die away from its home. He makes sure to punch Jaeger extra hard this last time before he relives them of their duty. He is going to miss him, he misses all of them really, so what’s one more loss between friends?

With no titans to kill and his parent’s deaths avenged, baby Marco changes his vow from bloody vengeance to reforming the military police into something to be proud of. It’s fitting given his namesake and knowing his lineage it’s sure to be an _interesting_ journey. He has his support though. Always.

At night, when Jean dreams he can no longer remember just how many freckles his Marco had on his cheeks or the exact shade of brown of his hair. He doubts Marco would even recognize him with his own graying hair and missing eye. The thought makes him sadder than it should for such an old wound.

Jean reaches out to death like an old friend, but death refuses to answer his call.

He’s not surprised in the least bit. He’s never been lucky enough to get what he wants.

* * *

 

At age 52 they begin calling him _Humanity’s Rock_ , unmovable and unwavering, a nickname he vehemently hates _. 'The walls of heaven would crumble before old Commander Kirschtein would.'_   In his youth Jean would had loved such an accolade but the man he is today wants nothing to do with it and scoffs or punches, depending on his mood, anyone who dares call him that to his face.

Humanity didn’t need more rocks; it needs a rain to wash it clean and start it all over.

Though he is not so humble as to step out of the limelight completely. When he isn't trying to salvage the remains of civil law and obedience, Jean teaches basic training at the academy. It’s something to do in his spare time and he likes scaring the brats. After all these years he finally thinks he understands why Shadis was such a dick to them; it was fun to watch them squirm.

Marco Springer, who will always be baby Marco to him _because if he has to have a shitty nickname then so does he_ , gets married and has children of his own. Jean pretends he doesn’t get teary-eyed every single time they call him _Grandpa_.

* * *

 

At age 60 Jean decides he hates being old. He hates feeling his body turn against him, he hates having to walk with a cane, and he hates having to explain why his jokes are hilarious to young soldiers who are scared shitless of him.

He hates being alone most of all. His family is wonderful and he loves his grandchildren, _god that sounds weird even after all this time_ , but they have lives of their own and besides picking on teenage soldiers, he feels like he’s simply waiting to die.

The last time he sees Historia she has an otherworldly air about her as they sit in her garden and enjoy their bread and tea. They talk of friends long gone and the days where they weren't burdened with the loss. It's not as painful as it used to be and they smile more than they frown. When they part ways she pulls him down to her by his shirt collar, even shorter in her old age than she once was, she kisses his wrinkled cheek. With a sigh, she tells him she had always though he looked like a horse, but thought it was rude to say. It’s hardly the last encounter of champions but he was so flustered that he blushed to his now white roots causing her to laugh like she hadn't since before the fall. It’s a nice change from the usual so he didn't protest too much.

She is gone the next day.

Jean attends Historia’s simple funeral service with a heavy heart. They had never been close, not really, but in the years since the walls fell they were at least friends in a way you can only be with someone who has seen the same horrors as you.  Misery loves company after all.

It feels strange that the woman, radiant until the very end, spent her entire life fighting off monsters, both literal and figurative, but dies quietly of bad blood circulation.

Being without at least Historia by his side is strange and leaves him feeling emptier than before. It feels as if the hole that Marco left, the choice of words is no better nearly 50 years later, has only gotten bigger, spreading with each and every loss, until Jean is unsure just how much of him is left to lose.

Jean Kirschtein, 6th graduate of the 104th trainee unit, squad leader, uncle, scouting legion commander, war veteran and humanity’s rock, lives a long and healthy life. Alone.

_Of fucking course he would._

* * *

 

At age 44, Marco Springer lays his uncle’s remains to rest at the veteran’s memorial of Trost with a sad heart but a peaceful mind. Undoubtedly his children will hear stories of their esteemed uncle from everyone; stories of his courage, stories of his valor, and stories of the power of his will. He makes sure that they will also hear the stories of how he had played tea party with him when he was young, or how he was fond of singing old wive's songs about love when he thought no one was listening.

Marco Springer talks and talks until his throat is dry and sore, making sure to tell his children all the embarrassing and unflattering stories he can remember about their grandfather, because no one else will know about the real Jean Kirschtein if he doesn't.

* * *

 

At 15—again— Jean Kirschtein wakes up with his two tone hair in his face, his knees no longer aching, and with a face containing 34—how could he have ever forgotten?— perfect freckles smiling down at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you sure know how to leave a date hanging Jean. I was beginning to think you were staying alive just to spite me.”

Marco Bodt has been dead and waiting for 53 years before his stupid no good better half —hey Jean wasn't the only one who was horrible at poetry— finally comes back to him.

Jean rises to the bait immediately. “S-shut up! I was working on it! It’s not my fault I was the only one of us that wasn't stupid enough to become titan food!”

Marco pokes him above his left eye, the one that had been missing when he had been alive. “Joking, I was joking. I do that sometimes if you remember.” He pecks his lips with a familiarity that takes Jean by surprise. Not by how foreign it is but how normal and right it feels. “I missed you so much Jean, we all have. Well, mostly me, but the others too. Even if they don’t want to admit it.” He rambles on as he used to do when they were kids and he was nervous.  

The moment is so surreal that Jean is unable to stop himself from cupping the other boy’s face in his hands. He fingers the side that had been rotted and hollow when he had last seen him, 53 long years ago, with wonder. The skin was fine with not even a scar or a freckle out of place. It’s a jarring juxtaposition with the image that lived in his head, haunting him. “It hurt didn't it?”

Marco’s face softens with understanding and he sighs. “Yeah, it did. A lot.”

“If I had been there quicker could I have—?”

“No. You couldn’t have.” There is no room for argument in his gentle tone.  “It doesn't matter now.” The brunet nuzzles into his hand to distract him from the nightmare of a memory his corpse must have made. It's not something Marco likes to think about either. “You've got over 50 years of stories to tell me ‘ _Humanity’s Rock_ ’.” He teases.

Jean groans and buries his head into Marco’s shoulder in shame.

“Ugh, don’t call me thaaaaat.”

Marco laughs and takes his hand. Jean feels as if the lifetime of loneliness he suffered through, the years of being the only one who lived to see the new world they all dreamed of, are being smoothed away with each fleeting gesture. 

“I missed you so fucking much Marco.” Jean admits out loud at last; saying it was always too hard when alive, but in death it was the easiest thing.

“Of course you did, no one else can put up with you like I can.” Marco chirps as he pulls him to his feet with the upbeat attitude Jean remembered so well. Death was shaping up to be pretty nice. “Now, tell me about my honorary nephew. You call him baby Marco right? Does that make me classic Marco then?”

“What it makes you is lucky that I'm willing to put up with you for the rest of my death.”

"Lucky me." This time it's Jean that pulls Marco into a kiss which he melts into like it is the easiest thing. It's simple and easy and good; its everything he remembered, its' perfect and-

Soooooooo worth the long wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so originally this was going to end before he actually died and he was going to continue on being miserable. The actual working title for this was 'Jean is sad and everyone is dead the end'. But as my roommate put it, I 'puss'd' out and gave it a happyish conclusion. Thank you for reading!


End file.
